Drifting Memories

Art and Words to settle my mind

Will You Help Create Better

So, would you stop and help this need?
Would you give what you can, weather
Sharing time, aid, or simply love for another?
Can you help all of humanity freely
So we together create a far better world?

A-Need

Grandfather,

Grandfather,

I look to the North and I see the people scratching and digging at the Earth Mother’s face. Leaving nothing but waste and death behind them, they forsake all of the gifts and life in their greed at collecting the dead leaves.

I look to the East and I see them wrapped in petty war and strife, a continuing fight over words of religions and politics. Gone are the ways of peace, the way taught so long by the old ones, the way needed for them to truly grow as a people.

I look to the South and I see nothing but need, want, and destruction. Where gone their knowing how to serve a need, how to reach out with helping hands to aid those that would become brothers and sisters?

I look to the West and I see only death for the people. Though I and others try with our poorly written words to help them understand, helping them remember what is truly important in life, our words fail or go unheard.

I beg they forgive me for my inability to help them in their need, to help them gain the understanding they so need, and I beg you most Grandfather to forgive me for my failing of you.

Shadow Life

Lips pulled back in silent snarl
Anxious frantic need to be heard
Desperate quiet scream not escaping
Voice lost to din
Will I speak ere again

I stand here before you
Invisible shadow in your world
You don’t feel me, hear me not
Passing by, walk over, tread upon
Rejecting my very existence
Going through your day paying no heed

Am I but abstract thought
My presence but absence overwhelm
Echoing Empty void where my heart should be
This viscous solitude drowning out my words

Stay with me, talk to me
The slightest moment, a second of time
Watch me dance, see my smile
Feel my touch, know my care
Too much to ask

Reject me then, strike me down
Kill me with words or sword
Hold me up to ridicule and scorn
Anything but this immeasurable indifference

I would welcome your hatred
In place of your indifference
At the least the wounds, the hurts, the pain, are real
And even the scars giving something at least

A reminder that I exist…..

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre December 10th, 2007